Rhabdomyosarcoma
by MarvelGeek
Summary: Jimmy Palmer was seven years old when he was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma, skeletal muscle cancer. He went through chemo and his cancer went away...15 years passed and Jimmy thought he was in the clear. But it came back.


James Palmer leaned over the waste-basket in the bathroom of Autopsy and heaved out the contents of his stomach. Waves of burning acidic bile stung the back of his throat as he clung to the basin for dear life. The young man felt utter awful as he retched into the bin, his stomach was churning uncomfortably and his head was pounding, as if someone was jamming a block into it. He knew that he shouldn't have come into work today, but he hadn't wanted to worry Dr. Mallard or Team Gibbs.

He didn't want them to know that it was back. Though in all truth, they hadn't known that it was ever there in the first place. He hadn't wanted them to know, he was just clumsy, directionless, sensitive, stuttering, Jimmy Palmer. Nobody needed or wanted him to be anything else. He was just there, just support. Nobody thought that Jimmy had problems or about his Rhabdomyosarcoma. But if that was the word he chose, nobody but Dr. Mallard would know what it was. He usually just called it what it really was...

...a Skeletal Muscle Cell Cancer...

He was first diagnosed when he was seven years old. He'd come in a scared little boy who's pediatrician had told his parents to take him to Urgent Care, he'd been feeling sick and his lymph-nodes were rock hard and painful. That's where they told his parents that he had cancer. But they had no idea what kind until they found a tumor in his left kidney. At first, they thought it was kidney cancer but then they looked closely at exactly what cells were causing it and came back with Rhabdomyosarcoma.

To a seven year old boy, that word is meaningless. Just a big word that adults use for scary stuff, he never thought it was important. At least not until he started chemo, it wasn't too far along, still at Stage 1, so the chemo worked. True, he did lose all of his curly red hair and he did feel crummy all the time. But at nine years old he went into remission, the cancer was gone and his hair grew back a curly dark color instead of their natural red, yet the nine year old Jimmy didn't care. He was healthy again and ready to rock and roll.

Jimmy was eighteen when both his parents were killed in an automobile accident. He was depressed for a long time, but he got better. He pieced his life back together and four years later, it was falling apart again. His Rhabdomyosarcoma was back and now in Stage 3, he had a tumor in his pelvis and cancerous tissue around the lining of his stomach. The doctors thought it was best to give him radiation therapy before starting up chemo again.

Jimmy hunched over the waste-basket once again as another wave of nausea hit and more vomit spewed from his lips, dribbling down his chin as well. His glasses hung off his face and he hoped that they wouldn't fall into his puke. It was disgusting enough already without having to pick through it to locate his glasses.

Yet, he couldn't muster up the energy to move them from his face and on to the counter. He sighed, mentally. He was going home the first chance he got, this was embarrassing and disgusting without someone else coming in and finding him. He just hoped that Dr. Mallard wasn't back from his lunch break yet.

Jimmy finally mustered up the will to pick himself up and off the floor, only to slip in his own sick. Or what had missed the waste bin. His body slammed against the floor but his head managed to avoid the same fate. The world spun sickeningly around him and his hands flew to cover his mouth, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he pressed them closed. He felt terrible as he forced himself to stagger up on shaky legs.

Jimmy quickly grabbed several paper towels to clean up the mess, when he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Along with a familiar voice.

"Mr. Palmer? Are you in here?"

Dr. Mallard's voice asked and Jimmy's heart clenched in dread at the sound. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, Dr. Mallard was even worse. He was a worrier and he would worry about the young M.E assistant, that was something that Jimmy was trying to avoid. Jimmy hurried mopped up the mess, the best he could with paper towels but the room still smelled of vomit.

The young man he was looking for practically burst from the restroom to Ducky's surprise. The older man sensed that something was off with the young man, he was oddly pale and his eyes were bloodshot and had a glazed look about them. Jimmy was undoubtably sick, but the young man was already hurrying to the elevator.

"Mr. Palmer are you alright?"

The older man asked and Jimmy plastered a face smile on his features, what he thought was a normal goofy Palmer-smile. But by the look on Ducky's face, it definitely wasn't covering it. The young M.E assistant pressed the close button in the elevator and called out before it closed,

"I'm fine Dr. Mallard! Just going out really quick!"

Then the doors closed and Jimmy was alone, slumping against the cold interior as he groaned, softly. Now he had to find a way to pull himself together so he could go back to Autopsy. He slid to the ground and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and evenly as he tried to quell the urge to vomit. It wasn't working. He shoved his fist into his mouth and covered his mouth with his other hand, trying to stop the hot acidic wave of bile that washed over the back of his throat. He was so focused on trying to avoid vomiting that he didn't notice the hand that pressed gently against his forehead.

"Get up, Palmer."

Jimmy's eyes widened and opened as he saw Gibbs standing over him, arms crossed as he glared. Jimmy hurriedly scrambled to his feet in surprise and Gibbs caught him by the shoulder. The young M.E assistant opened his mouth to say something (most likely apologize) but ended up doubling over with one hand over his stomach and the other hand over his mouth to stop the inevitable gush of vomit, burning at his lips. Gibbs seemed to realize what was going on, because he gently turned Jimmy around as his man-made dam broke. His throat convulsed, the contents of his stomach spewing out of his mouth as he gagged.

God his stomach hurt; No, his whole body hurt. The smell of half-digested food and bitter stomach acid only sickened him further and made him double over, even lower. In fact, Gibbs' arms around his middle and shoulders, were the only things that stopped Jimmy from falling into his own pile of sick. The sick that now covered most of the elevator's floor. The moment the young man could breathe again, he gasped wetly as he leaned against Gibbs.

"I'm...s-sorry."

Jimmy whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy as he tried to pull away from Gibbs, his face blushing a deep scarlet. But the older man held firm to his shoulder and didn't let Jimmy move in the slightest, his frown deepened every time the M.E assistant tried.

"Why are you here Palmer?"

Gibbs barked and Jimmy practically cowered under his gaze, which made the older man feel slightly guilty. He didn't want to scare the poor kid after all, but why would he come into work when he was obviously ill? Idiot.

"I'm...fine."

The young man wheezed as he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth, Gibbs just raised an eyebrow at the statement and rolled his eyes.


End file.
